


Gathered Closer For Warmth

by ejr



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Canon Era, Established Relationship, F/F, Non-Sexual Intimacy, Nudity, Undressing, soft and sweet, unnecessary attention to historical attire
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-04
Updated: 2018-09-04
Packaged: 2019-07-06 16:42:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,537
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15889983
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ejr/pseuds/ejr
Summary: Grantaire knew what the female body looked like. She had one of her own.She knew what a woman's body looked like, but she couldn't help but feel a little blinded when she saw Enjolras’s nude form. Enjolras was taller, and much more beautiful, the perfect woman, an Aphrodite.





	Gathered Closer For Warmth

Grantaire knew what the female body looked like. She had one of her own. She was thin, a little tall, and often bruises dotted her arms and legs from sparring with Bousset. She had hair on her legs and arms and a little on her belly. Her chest was moderate, though sometimes she found it a little odd as she stared at it in the mirror when in private.

She knew what a woman's body looked like, but she couldn't help but feel a little blinded when she saw Enjolras’s nude form. Enjolras was taller, and much more beautiful, the perfect woman; an Aphrodite. Her soft shapes only interrupted by the hint of the strength that lies within her muscles.

“Are you going to join me?” Enjolras asks, slipping off her stockings. Her dress and under shorts lay neatly across a chair.

“Would you like me to, my lady?” Grantaire asks. She stands in the doorway, observing Enjolras as she undressed in the candlelight. 

“Yes.” Enjolras says simply. “The weather is colder tonight, I think.”

“Then shouldn't you stay dressed?”

“Perhaps,” Enjolras says. She slips off her chemise and lays it on top of everything else on the chair, leaving her completely nude. Grantaire has never known Enjolras to be shy about her body, holding herself with the same sort of unshakeable confidence and surety that she walked the streets with. Grantaire soaks the sight in. It's like being before a goddess, a shining radiating beauty. She's blonde from head to toe and her skin is fair and smooth. “Grantaire?” She inquires, looking at her from across the room as she carefully ties her loose golden hair into a plait to sleep in.

“Help me undress.” Grantaire says. “I'm feeling quite lazy.”

“You always say that.”

“Maybe I always feel lazy.” Grantaire says, smiling. Enjolras shakes her head, but reaches for Grantaire's hand to begin unbuttoning the tiny buttons of her sleeve at her wrist. Enjolras’s hands are gentle, they always are, but even more so with the buttons up Grantaire’s chest to her collar. Once all the buttons are undone, the dress comes off. Whereas Grantaire would have likely dropped it or tossed it carelessly across the room, Enjolras carefully sets it on top of the pile of her own clothes.

The worn muted green of Grantaire’s dress looks dim near Enjolras’s well kept deep red dress. She sighs at the sight, but Enjolras seems unbothered; after all, she never cared for petty comparisons of class or wealth. She saw nothing to gain from them.

“Petticoat next, please.” Enjolras says, her voice quiet and soft. Grantaire unties the strings around her waist to step out of her petticoat and then shoes, kicking her shoes aside and handing her petticoat to Enjolras. “Do you need help with your corset?” Grantaire wordlessly nods. She could probably undo it on her own, but she knows how much Enjolras enjoys helping her.

“Aren’t you cold, my flower?” Grantaire asks, referring to Enjolras’s nudity.

“Only a little. It will be fine in a moment. You’ll keep me warm, won’t you?” Enjolras moves behind Grantaire, fingers at her waist.

“Of course.” Grantaire murmurs. Enjolras starts loosening the strings on the back of Grantaire’s corset. She exhales as it loses its firm support, rolling her shoulders back a little. Her corset was far from uncomfortable but days ran long and difficult and it was nice to relax.

“Arms up, please.” Enjolras says softly, kissing the back of Grantaire’s shoulder. She obeys and up the corset goes, another item on the pile on the chair. Grantaire stands in her chemise and trousers, her feet socked, and her hair messy from undressing. Her chemise was worn and well loved, the fabric soft from overwashing and missing any of the decorative lace Enjolras’s chemise sported. Enjolras walks up to her and leans in close. “Will you be taking off anything more, my love?”

Grantaire bumps their noses together affectionately. “If you wish I would, I shall.”

“Only if you’re comfortable.”

“It won’t matter after we get in bed.” Grantaire says. She kisses Enjolras lightly. 

“I suppose not.” Enjolras says, smiling. She reaches forward, and how Grantaire seems to ache for her touch, the feeling magnified by their closeness. Enjolras runs her hands down from Grantaire’s shoulders, over her breasts, and down her ribs before scrunching up the fabric of her chemise at her hips. Off it comes, betraying Grantaire to the mild chill in the air. Enjolras gathers the bulk of it in her arms and leans forward again to press a kiss to Grantaire’s awaiting lips. “You’re beautiful,” She says in that sincere voice that means so, so much to Grantaire.

“More beautiful than you?” Grantaire teases.

“Certainly.”

“Lies.”

“I don’t waste time with falsehood, you know that.” Enjolras chides. She kisses Grantaire again, lingering a bit longer. “I think you are quite beautiful. I am very lucky to be able to share these moments with you.”

Grantaire finds she has nothing to say in response. Enjolras doesn’t seem to want a reply, as she folds up the chemise and sets it on the chair as well. Grantaire decides to join Enjolras in her complete nudity and slips off her pants and socks, setting them on the chair. 

The floor is worn beneath her feet, but Enjolras’s smile is as fresh as flowers. 

“Bed, my darling?” Grantaire asks. Enjolras reaches for her hands and Grantaire laces their fingers together.

“Mhm.”

“Will you stay until morning?”

“Of course.” Enjolras says. “I have no better or more important task than staying with you until the sun rises over the rooftops.”

“That’s not true. Imagine if Marius should hear your falsities.”

“She would understand, wouldn’t she? For she spends the nights with her fair lover, does she not? We both have importance outside of our plans for society, Grantaire.”

“Then I am honored you would choose me over anything else.”

“I feel the same, that you should welcome me into your bed.”

“Nothing I own is not welcome to you.” Grantaire says. Enjolras’s eyelashes are pale in the candlelight. Grantaire often finds herself so captivated by Enjolras’s beauty and passion that words take leave from her mind, rendering her incapable of thinking of anything that isn’t Enjolras. She feels that way now, as Enjolras gazes at her lovingly, her blue eyes soft, her pouty mouth drawn up in a smile. Her eyes look fierce and young. Grantaire knew and had been told many times of how old her own eyes made her look; many believed her an old soul in contrast to Enjolras’s childlike appearance.

But Enjolras was nearly twenty two, Grantaire nearly twenty four. Neither were children. They did not love like children. They loved passionately, and yet delicately, and each year that passed between them only drew them closer together.

“I love you.” Grantaire murmurs.

“I know.” Enjolras says. “I love you with all of my heart.”  
  
“I know.” Grantaire says, voice hardly above a whisper. She kisses her, and Enjolras kisses back, her mouth warm, her hands soft, her soft exhale unendingly charming. “What are the plans tonight; what do you wish?”  
  
“I wish to sleep by your side.” Enjolras says. “That is all.”

“Then it shall be.” Grantaire says, smiling, leading Enjolras to her bed by their joined hands. “Oh dear mistress, grace my bed tonight, offer happy dreams and peaceful sleep.” She says, pulling back the blankets. Grantaire lays down first, making room for Enjolras to slip into bed next to her. Grantaire draws the blankets up around them. “May my bed posts offer protection. May my blankets offer warmth. May my skin satisfy.”

“You say this as if speaking to a fairy.”

“Perhaps I am,” Grantaire says. “Perhaps you have bewitched me with your beauty, cast a spell on me.”

“I have done nothing of the sort.” Enjolras says. She’s already tucked herself into Grantaire’s side, her head resting on Grantaire’s outstretched arm.

“My flower, don’t forget the candle.” Grantaire says, and watches as Enjolras turns to the candle on the table near the bed. She inhales; the candle light dances across her breasts and the hollow of her ribs, and then exhales. They are plunged into darkness and the night settles in around them.

It is quiet as Enjolras shuffles back into bed, her legs slipping up between Grantaire’s solely for comfort and closeness. Grantaire’s arms drape across Enjolras's waist by memory alone for she knows that is what makes Enjolras the most comfortable; the warm embrace makes her feel safe and held most pleasantly. They kiss, the sounds echoing into the dark, Grantaire never feeling so sated as she does right now.

“I have meetings late into tomorrow night.” Enjolras says. Her warm lips trail down Grantaire’s neck. “Will you wait up for me?”

“Of course.” Grantaire says, voice carried on a soft sigh. “I would wait up a hundred hours if you had promised to come back to my bed.”  
  
“I promise.” Enjolras says, voice full of conviction and sincerity. 

“I believe you, darling. Sleep, now.” Grantaire says. She presses a kiss to Enjolras’s hair. Enjolras nods and tucks herself under Grantaire's chin.

Between them, the blankets are warm. 


End file.
